


The Glass Ghost

by FunkMcLovin



Category: Locus - Fandom
Genre: High Fantasy, Lore - Freeform, Tolkienesque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkMcLovin/pseuds/FunkMcLovin
Summary: The once-great Pale City isn't all it once was, as Aya, a monster hunter, discovers when she returns after three decades. What was once an opulent bustling metropolis is now a decrepit ghost town, guarded by tired Legion soldiers, unfit for service anywhere else.Aya is about to find out that "ghost town" is more literal than she thought.
Kudos: 1





	1. The Pale City

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roxy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roxy/gifts).



The Pale City was once a jewel in Invictor's crown. At the foot of the western tip of the Inugo range, the city was once a bustling metropolis of commerce, stalls set up, hawkers shouting their wares, tourists looking around in awe. The dirt streets were clean, the houses prim and upkept, everyone crammed into tiny apartments, all just happy to be in the capitol city.

But it wasn't the capitol any more.

Aya hadn't been to the Pale City in decades, and her memories were in stark contrast to the streets laid out before her. It was uncanny, really. They were all arranged as she remembered them, the same grid of houses and buildings spilling into the central square, the fountain of the first emperor in the middle, standing resolute. The houses and the square and the fountain were still there, but instead of bustling metropolis, there were only a few stray people, tired and shambling, the fountain bare of water, inert.

Aya breathed in. It even smelled different, now. Baking bread and cooking meat could once have been whiffed in the square, but all Aya smelled today was mud and standing water.

At least the sky was still blue.

"New around these parts?" came a voice behind Aya. To her surprise, it was an imperial guard, decked to the nines in shining platinum-colored chainmail and armor. He looked the part, but unlike the alert guards of the old days, he was bored and lacksadaisical.

"Who's askin'?" Aya drawled. "His Royal Majesty?"

"Careful," the guard said. Badmouthing the Emperor was, as ever, both heresy and treason. Then again, those crimes were only as severe as their enforcement, and this guard didn't look like he was going to enforce much of anything.

"I'm not new around here, you could say I'm old around here," Aya said, relaxing, deciding not to bust the young guard's chops- Or give him a reason to hand out a fine. "I haven't been to the Pale City since it was the capital."

"Huh," the guard said, leaning against the bricks of a building behind him. "You don't look old enough to remember the old days. I was stationed here after they moved the capital out east."

"Well thank you kindly, son," Aya grinned. She wondered if the guard's sword had ever even exited his scabbard. Better a lazy guard than one who was more than happy to start cutting.

"Headed somewhere?" asked the young man, crossing his arms. His armor clanked. Was he on duty? He was in full armor, but he had the demeanor of a fellow on break.

"Lookin' for work," Aya said. "Name's Aya, by the way."

"Stuart," said Stuart, reaching into his supply bag at his hip, withdrawing a piece of hard jerky. He offered Aya a piece, which she took eagerly. "You won't find work around here, I'm afraid. Unless your business is fixing roofs for beneath a respectable asking price."

Aya laughed. She finished her jerky in record time.

"Nah, I'm a contractor of sorts," Aya said, leaning next to the guard on the stone wall. "An old friend got in touch with me about a little problem that's been accosting this fair city." Aya looked around. "Formerly fair, that is."

Stuart laughed, too, kicking the cobblestone beneath their feet.

"Fair enough. Is it the rats? They're running wild in the sewers." Stuart ventured a guess, looking Aya up and down. He'd notice several things that stood out about Aya.

For starters, Aya was tall, particularly for a woman. She was a head above Stuart, who was already six feet even. On top of that, Aya's width wasn't anything to sneeze at, either, her shoulders alone doubling Stuart's. Trying to identify her occupation wasn't easy, either. She wore leather armor, lightweight, a dagger at her hip and a crossbow slung over her back.

"Hunter?" he ventured. Aya shook her head, her black hair tied back behind her neck swaying a little. It was well-kept for such a rugged-looking lady.

"Not quite," she said evasively. Stuart shrugged, giving up.

"Well, if it's anything the Imperial Guard can help you with, don't hesitate to ask. Not that anyone around here bothers."

"Really?" Aya quirked a brow. "Come to think of it, why is your armor so shiny, anyway? Seems pretty quiet around here since the imperials moved east."

"You're not wrong. Population is only a quarter of what it was back in the day. We're watching empty houses these days," Stuart sighed. "This place is where the rejects from the imperial guard end up. The people who can't make it in Antagon or Inugo get dumped in Old Pale City to rot. I'm a recent transfer, that's the only reason my armor looks halfway decent."

"Huh," Aya raised her eyebrows. "Didn't expect everything to dry up all at once like that when the capital moved."

"That's not the only reason," Stuart said, his voice hardening a little, eyebrows furrowing. When he didn't elaborate, Aya pressed.

"What's the other reason?"

Suddenly, Stuart coughed.

"I should get back to my post, citizen," he said in a suddenly-stiff voice. "I can't be discussing superstitions with outsiders."

Aya watched Stuart traipse off. She had a feeling she knew what those "superstitions" were.

Kicking off the wall, Aya adjusted the strap of her crossbow, setting off down a narrow side-street, stopping in front of a pale blue door. She knocked. From within, there was a sudden commotion, as though her knock had shocked the inhabitant enough to knock down some personal effects. Soon enough, a bespectacled woman with wispy grey hair poked her prodigious nose through a crack in the door.

"I told you incompetent guards that I don't require your assistance, now please-" the woman paused upon seeing Aya. "Ah!" She cried, swinging the door the rest of the way open.

"Stella, you old bag of bones," Aya said, pushing her way inside, ducking her head underneath the doorframe. Stella stood back, grinning widely.

"It's been too long, Aya," Stella said, clapping her hands together. "Nearly thirty years! Why, you don't look a day older."

"Heh," Aya chuckled bashfully, stoically mumbling something before clearing her throat. "I hear you have a job."

"That I do," Stella was already turned away, digging through a towering pile of scrolls and string-bound books. Her apartment was unchanged since Aya had last seen her, possibly the only part of the Pale City that looked anywhere close to familiar. It would have made Aya smile, if Aya hadn't used up her once-daily smile already. With a triumphant sound, Stela pulled out a dusty scroll, pressing it into Aya's hands, who read it aloud.

"Specters, Spooks, and Ectoplasms: A Haunting Primer," she read, quirking a brow. "You really have a ghost problem, do you?"

"We do, and those mail-headed guards refuse to believe a word of it! They call it superstition. Pah! Useless." Stella waved her hand, carefully picking her way through the cluttered, tiny apartment into a kitchenette filled with dirty dishes and loose confections. Stella withdrew a kettle, pouring them both a cup of tea before settling down on a decrepit-looking red sofa. After clearing some papers from it, Aya sat down, taking up two seats.

"Ghosts are rare," Aya said. "I don't blame them for having doubt." Perhaps she was being too charitable since Stuart had given her that jerky.

"Yes, well, I'm not the old fool they take me for," Stella said bitterly, sipping her tea. "Ugh, Aya, forgive me. It's been decades since last we spoke and here I am assailing you with job details first thing as soon as you cross my threshhold! I know you're all business, but even so I feel terrible."

"You always did put the cart before the horse, Stella," Aya said with as much affection as she could. Her tea was already gone, helping herself to another draught from the pot.

"It's just been an absolute nightmare lately. I mean, there were rumors ever since the Imperials left about ghosts, but this is concrete." Stella put a hand on Aya's. "You were the only one I could think of to turn to."

"Good thing, too," Aya said. "I needed an excuse to come back to the Pale City and see my old friend Stella." Aya lightly slugged Stella on the arm, who winced. "That and I need the silver."

"So you'll help?" Stella said hopefully.

"Sure," Aya said. "How hard can a little spook be?"

Outside in the streets of the Pale City, Stuart the Guard reached into his bag to find all his jerky had been eaten. Sighing, he lamented his lack. The cobblestone streets were empty, twilight making the tall buildings cast long shadows. Most of the nearby buildings were vacant, all with optimistic "for sale" signs hung on doors. Some of them looked older than Stuart.

Yawning, Stuart took solace in the fact that he'd be getting home himself, soon. With any luck, he could find some kid throwing rocks through windows to tell off and kill the last hour on the job.

As luck would have it, there was the tell-tale tinkle of glass shattering around the corner in an alleyway. Clear as day. He smiled cheerfully, rounding the corner, his voice booming down the short, dark alley.

"Listen, you hoodlums, don't throw stones through windows unless you plan to fix them your-" Stuart blinked. The alley was empty. "-self."

He sighed, kicking a pebble deeper into the shadowy alcove. He withdrew a matchstick from his pouch, lighting it. He knew the alley was empty, but he was so bored he might as well check for sure.

The dim light of the match was a pittance in the face of the twilight pressing in, giving a squinting Stuart a lackluster view of the closed side-street. He kicked a barrel, a tiny mouse scurrying out.

"And a two silver fine for loitering," he called sarcastically after the mouse as it scurried into a hole in the brick. But then, Stuart heard it again. Tink. Tink. The gentle tap of stone on glass.

"Eh? Who's- Ow!" Stuart hissed in pain as the match burnt down to his bare fingers. He grumbled, bemoaning his choice to forego gauntlets this morning. Even still, something in the air changed. It was fully dark now, and the tinkling had begun in earnest. He perked his ears, eyes now adjusted to the dark enough to make out the buildings around him.

The tinkling noise seemed to be coming from above, a window about fifteen feet up. That was it- The sound was coming from INSIDE the building. Stuart looked up at the darkening blue sky, deciding he'd end his on-duty time early today. The tresspassers could wait until tomorrow to be fined.

"You're off the hook today, hoodlums," he murmured to himself. As he turned back towards the exit of the alley, he cried out in shock.

"Holy- Ugh. For Compra's sake, don't sneak up on a guy like that," he said, clutching his heart. In the alleyway's mouth stood the silhouette of a young boy. Stuart regained his composure quickly as he could. "Is there something I can help you with, young man?"

The silhouette didn't move.

"Young... Lady?" Stuart ventured. He wasn't good with kids. "You weren't breaking windows inside that house, were you, young man? Your parents wouldn't be pleased if they were administered a fine for your misbehavior."

The silhouette remained still. Stuart swallowed. He tried to push down his superstitious thoughts.

"It's," Stuart's voice wavered. "It's getting late, boy, can't you see this armor? I'm a guard. I-" Stuart took a step forward, feeling his nerves freeze his blood. He grit his teeth. He was letting ghost stories terrify him! This was just some kid, some local Pale City hoodlum, some-

"Gods on The Mountain..." Stuart gasped in a strangled whisper as the boy came into view. Stuart's voice froze cold in his throat. "H-help!"

"I see your armor," said the boy, taking a step towards Stuart, now fully visible. Stuart could barely believe his eyes. The boy had sockets where eyes would have been and a gash across his chest, which instead of leaking blood, leaked tiny shards of glass, tinkling against the cobblestones as they fell.

His voice was hoarse, quiet, like he was trying to speak through strangulation. His skin was pale, eyes shallow, his feet gliding etherially across the ground. This was not some local Pale City hoodlum.

"What are you?" Stuart demanded, drawing his sword. He brandished it at the boy, who, unafraid, walked forward. "I'm warning you! I'll- I'll-!"

Stuart didn't have the guts to slash a weapon at a child, no matter how incredibly uncanny. No matter how the child's eyeless sockets bored into Stuart. No matter how the ghoulish whisper the boy spoke with shook him to his core.

The ghostly child backed Stuart into the far wall of the alley, his sword clattering on the ground along with the glass dripping from the boy even more profusely, now from his gash, from his eye-sockets, from his mouth...

No one was in the rows of vacant houses to hear Stuart's final scream.


	2. Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aya investigates the fresh corpse.

"Welp," said a guard, scratching his hair under the metal helm. "That was Stuart."

The provided summary seemed incomplete. It was high noon, the sun shining above, reflecting off each helm of the three assembled Imperial Guards. In a back alley lay the dismembered corpse of their newest recruit.

"May sweet Finis take you, Stuart," the guard prayed as his two associates approached, one crouching next to the body.

"Say, Cap," the portly lieutenant said. "Since Stuart's finished his duties, y'think he'd mind if I nabbed his armor?"

"No good," said the second lieutenant, a gruff man with a mustache. "The armor's stabbed clean through. A plate sheet like this would need a hell of a patch.

"Regardless," the Captain said, finishing his prayer. "I doubt it would fit you."

"Should we carry him away, then?" asked the portly fellow.

"No," the Captain replied, to his subordinates' surprise. "We have been instructed to leave the body to the investigator."

"We have an investigator?" the gruff man said, putting his hands on his hips.

"Apparently," the Captain replied cagily. Truth be told, he didn't know the situation very well himself. The body had been discovered in the morning by some local children. The captain then sent a rather confused letter to high command by carrier falcon. By noon, the return message had been sent.

"I got this letter from command regarding procedure," the Captain said simply, handing the gruff lieutenant the message scroll. The gruff man scanned it with surprise.

"The investigator is a freelancer, too? I've never heard any protocol like this."

"Yes, well," the Captain shifted nervously. "It's not as though we have any better options."

The admission made the lieutenants feel a tad ashamed, but the tension was soon broken.

"Heard you've got a body for me,"

Aya stepped into view, clad not in leather armor but a cloth shirt, sleeves rolled up. She looked ready to paint a house. Behind her was the local alchemist, Stella.

"Stella, stand back, this here's a crime scene!" announced the portly lieutenant. "I assume this mountainous woman is our freelancer?"

Captain knocked the lieutenant on the head.

"You assume correct, little man," Aya drawled, pushing past the guards, waving for Stella to follow. The guards stood back and watched with interest.

Aya had seen her fair share of gore, hell, she'd CAUSED her fair share of it in her time, but this corpse was something new. Stella, on the other hand, was not doing so well, hovering back.

"God, the smell-" she heaved.

"You ain't smelled nothin' yet. There's five stages of decomposition and we're barely into one," Aya replied. "Let's work fast so we don't have to see the rest."

To this, Stella seemed to agree. She hastened to unload various chemicals, which she sprayed around the crime scene.

The body was leaned against the wall, a rictus expression of stunned awe coating his face. Hands limp, sword inert a foot away.

"My solution isn't reacting to any blood. Whatever this was- It happened quick," Stella concluded, pushing her glasses up her nose. Aya nodded.

"Sure as shit was. Looks like whatever killed Stuart gored him in one go. Clean through his breastplate, too. Poor fella..."

"Stuart?" Stella knelt near the body, swabbing more chemicals around the hole in the breastplate.

"Yeah, that was his name. Talked to him for a few moments before I came to see you," Aya turned Stuart's head from side to side.

"There's traces of blood on this breastplate. Meaning something sharp and flat cut through his armor and into him." Stella stood, shuddering.

"Help me turn 'im over," Aya said, already trying to wrench Stuart's body around.

"H-help?" Stella looked helplessly back at the three onlookers, who all hastily stepped back. To her dismay, Stella helped Aya twist the ex-person onto his front.

"Damn," Aya said. On Stuart's back plate, there was another hole. "Whatever gored him went clean through a breastplate, a whole body, a back plate, out the other end.

"Skewered," the Captain concluded unhelpfully.

Aya stood up, something crunching under her foot.

"What's all this glass?" she asked, picking up a shard.

"Kids," replied the captain, pointing at the window up above them. "They throw stones through the windows around these parts. They call this block ghost town, since when the capital moved, everyone left this district in particular."

Aya peered up at the window above them.

"That's a tiny window," she said. "That and the window up there ain't broken. This glass came from somewhere else."

Stella took notes, placing a sample in a vial for later.

After more investigating, all inconclusive, Stella and Aya turned Stuart back onto his back, opening the breastplate. Stella stood back as Aya inspected the wound.

"Tool used was clean. Smooth. Flat, like a broadsword or a big ass knife. Thin. Almost like- A big shard of glass." Aya considered this. "Stella, is there any blood on these glass shards? The perp might've stabbed Stuart then broke their weapon."

"You can't be serious," the gruff lieutenant scoffed. "Glass can't cut imperial armor."

"Anything can cut anything else with the right speed and force, genius," Aya retorted. "And wearing that armor is about as good as wearing scrolls of paper."

"I could fine you for that-!" the gruff man began, but the Captain put a hand on his chest.

"Calm down, lieutenant, we can't go around fining freelancers for helping."

"An Imperial turning down a fine? Now I've seen it all." Aya spoke dryly. Stella leaned against the wall, hoping not to be noticed, far less outwardly anti-establishment than her associate.

Aya stood, wiping bloodied hands on her leather pants, rolling her sleeves down.

"I've seen enough. You three, dispose of the body," she said, addressing the Captain, who nodded curtly.

"Any ideas?" Stella asked as the trio got to work carrying Stuart back to their headquarters.

"I'm used to trackin' monsters, not figuring out crimes," Aya shrugged. "I guess we know the basics about the weapon, plus the fact that this place is secluded to weed out alibis..." Aya's eyes shifted to meet Stella's. "But we both know this is that ghost."

"Safe to assume," Stella said. "I think the glass has something to do with it, I'll have to run tests when I get home."

"If it IS a ghost... I can't imagine why it'd go for Stuart," Aya spoke, scratching her chin.

"How so?" Stella scribbled in her notes, listening idly.

"Well... Stuart's new here. Ghosts usually form for revenge against someone who fucked with them. In other words, unfinished business on the planet. Ergo, a new presence like Stuart couldn't have anything to do with this ghost's old issues."

"But it did," Stella said simply.

"Yeah. That's the issue."

The guards lugged Stuart's body onto a cart as Aya finished investigating.

"Ghosts? Can you believe those fools?" the gruff man said.

"Ghosts aren't real. They're made up fairy tales," agreed the portly lieutenant.

"I don't want to hear it," grumbled the captain, wheeling the dead body back to Legion HQ, traipsing down side-streets as to avoid onlookers from seeing them carting around a corpse.

Other than the decrepit old buildings and vacancies, the Pale City was still lovely. At least... That's what the Captain thought. He was an older man, balding, sent to the Pale City for his retirement after years of imperial service. Unlike his associates, he wasn't a reject. He cared deeply about the safety of the citizens, he was perhaps the only remaining person on the Legion's forces that still did.

"That freelancer is trying to help us," insisted the Captain. "She might be rough around the edges, but who among us isn't? Especially you, Avery," Captain said, giving the gruff man an affectionate punch.

"Well," Avery relented. "I guess she's helping us out. And it's not like her fee is coming out of my pay. Still... Ghosts? Do you really believe all that?"

"Well," it was captain's turn to relent. "I don't know. It always struck me as superstition. Still, that woman doesn't look like she has a whimsical bone in that titanic body of hers. I think whatever flights of fancy she's entertaining, it will help."

Avery and the other guards looked down at the limp corpse of Stuart, watching his limbs bob as the wagon bumped on the cobblestones.

"I hope you're right, Cap."

Back at the apartment, Stella sat down, helping Aya mull things over.

"Tell me more about ghosts," Stella offered. Aya nodded.

"They're rare, but we know where they come from. When someone dies before their time and they have a strong willpower, they stick around in the form of a ghost. Their Spark remains here on Locus until it can dissapate, usually after its natural life is up or its business is finished. Problem is- Most ghosts are insane and have random unpredictable magic powers."

Stella used a magnifying glass to peer at the sample of glass she'd procured from the crime scene.

"Magic powers such as manifesting glass?"

"Could be," said Aya, looking over her present partner's shoulder. "Is that glass magic in origin or are you just taking a genius shot in the dark?"

"The former, but let's not count out the latter quite yet!" Stella peered intently at the glass, nodding. "Yep, definitely not natural."

Aya frowned.

"Still, we don't know what this thing is or how it... Gored Stuart like that. Usually I say know your enemy, but the more I know about this guy the more I want to run fast in the opposite direction. Is this why people left the Pale City?"

"Like I said," began Stella. "People told ghost stories before, but it's never been... Demonstrable. What can you tell me about ghosts?"

"Ghosts?" Aya laughed bitterly. "They're not the pearl-white spectres you read about in children's books. A REAL ghost is rare."

Stella listened, pouring them tea.

"I'll tell you a story about my last ghost run-in," Aya began. Despite Aya's severity and taciturn expression, she loved telling stories, especially if it helped things, like this.

"Long time ago, I was down south, near the coast of the Ostian Sea. There was a sea monster me and a crew were tracking, trying to shave some scales off to make a little silver. We were desperate, which is a bad thing to be on the water. I'm not much of a sailor myself, but I threw in with a little skiff led by a captain and his boy."

Stella sipped her tea, catching herself smile. So far, the tale sounded lovely, until she remembered it involved spirits.

"Long story short, we caught up with the monster and we managed to spear it and pull it aboard. It wasn't until we'd finished celebrating that we noticed in the commotion, the captain's son... Fell overboard."

The air in the room was silent as Aya paused to sip her tea.

"We saw him floating, back-up in the waves. He was just a kid. Sixteen at most. The captain wept for days. We took the boy to a hill to bury him, gave the captain the lion's share of the profits, and we thought that'd be the end of the matter..."

Aya leaned back. She liked telling stories, but was quickly regretting this one. She might be stoic, but a dead young man was not something she could revel in.

"Everyone knows that every sentient being on Locus has a Spark of Life. It burns bright until the day we die. It drives us to do things, then burns out when our lives end..." Aya looked at her tea, eyes hidden. "But if a life is cut short too early, the body dies, but the Spark lives on."

"And the Spark that's left over makes a ghost?" Stella connected the dots, to which Aya looked up, nodding.

"But a spark with no body isn't stable. It burns fast and hot, it's not a whole person, it's just a ball of memories and wishes. Without a body, the spark goes insane. Not to mention, the Spark causes all manner of magic and chaos."

"Magic and chaos like glass cutting through a guard's chestplate," Stella nodded, tucking a whispy hair behind her ear.

"When Stuart died, his Spark probably just dissapated. If his will was strong, it might have stuck around for a minute or two. But when that young man died on the boat..." Aya trailed off. "Ghosts are powerful. They're usually born of either young people who have a lot of Spark left or people who have unfinished business that their Spark can't let go of, that's why it lingers. Sheer willpower. Willpower, insanity, and magic aren't a great combo. When that boy died, his fear of death turned him into a ghost."

"The boy died at sea, so that's where his spark remained. When his father went back out with a fishing crew... The ghost decimated the entire ship. The ghost of that young man killed his own father and his crew because his spirit was too afraid to die in peace."

"What did you do about the ghost?" Stella asked carefully, putting a hand on Aya's arm. Aya seemed to snap out of a trance, blinking before carrying on.

"Well, ghosts are unpredictable. They can manage to form their old bodies with their spark, but it's just a projection. Usually it'll look mangled up like how the ghost died- In the boy's case, he looked clammy and pale, like a waterlogged corpse, standing upon the water like it was land. You can't swing a sword at them, all you can do is force 'em to dissapate."

"Right," Stella said, nodding. "They're pure Spark energy, so it follows that they could be dispersed like normal."

"Yep," Aya nodded. "But it's not that simple. There are only three ways to get rid of 'em. Wait for them to burn out is one."

"We can't do that! Who knows when the ghost will kill someone else?" Stella sat up straighter.

"Yep. They can last for years if unchecked. Second way is to disperse them using magic. That's the one we'll be using. The mage who was with us on that ship taught me how to unseal a ghost. It won't be easy, and we'll need supplies."

"Got it. I'll get whatever supplies you need," Stella reached for her notepad once more. "What's the third way?"

"Third way?"

"Yeah, you said there were three ways to get rid of them."

"Right. The third way is to bring them peace. Whatever that means." Aya stretched, her story finished.


End file.
